


Eager To Give

by Amsare



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Lube, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:05:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7799302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amsare/pseuds/Amsare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sometimes a man in charge has to strip himself of responsibilities, without thinking about the consequences: during these occasions, there are no hard decisions to make nor blood to spill, but pleasure, obedience and pure lust.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eager To Give

**Author's Note:**

> As I couldn't resist from writing something about this two, here it is a smut all for you.

Sometimes a man in charge has to strip himself of responsibilities, without thinking about the consequences: during these occasions, there are no hard decisions to make nor blood to spill, but pleasure, obedience and pure lust.  
   
Daud, the Knife of Dunwall, is no exception: wrists bound to the headboard of his bed, completely bare under his young disciple's gaze.  
   
   
 _Thomas._  
   
   
He is one of the youngest among his faithful whalers, and he is waiting for an order now; he is an exquisite sight with his bright smart eyes and short blond hair.  
   
“You know what to do,” Daud says, arousal growing inside him for the anticipation, studying his disciple’s body.  
   
Just the sight of him makes him hard.  
   
Thomas nods, taking a well-known vial of lube in his hands; the young whaler is naked too and he is not trying to cover his evident arousal. He is determined to do what his Master has asked him many others time before.  
   
Daud opens his legs wider to make more space for Thomas, who is opening the vial to take some of the translucent liquid; he slicks up his fingers and goes straight to his Master's entrance.  
   
There is concentration over Thomas' face as he prepares Daud with great care; he deliberately ignores the man's impressive hard cock, pushing two fingers inside his Master instead, twisting his wrist and setting a steady pace soon.  
   
Daud's jaw tightens, his arms pull against the bonds, making the headboard cracks; the sweet pressure building is fierce and powerful – he has been thinking about it for days, craving it nearly.  
   
But as soon as his Master is loose enough, Thomas seems to hesitate.  
   
“Do it,” Daud urges him to keep on going, just in case he is having some second thoughts, "do it now, Thomas." He would have not tolerated any objections: Daud's tone was as authoritative as ever despite his forced condition.  
   
Young Thomas nods, taking a deep breath; then, he finally guides himself into his Master's body, gritting his teeth as he pushes himself into that tight heat.  
   
He is tense, Daud can tell it from his red cheeks and trembling muscles but instead of stopping himself, he keeps on pushing – _oh_ , his faithful whaler, so eager to please.  
   
Daud tries to relax to make it easier for the young man and – _by the Void_ – it is getting harder to focus, as the sensations are just too much; he closes his eyes and gasps when Thomas is fulling him completely.  
   
“Sir?” Thomas’ voice comes like a worried whisper, his breath has become shallow; he shifts on his knees, moving slightly inside his Master and Daud sees stars.  
   
“Don't hold yourself back, Thomas,” he manages to say, moaning as Thomas tries to move properly this time: back, then forward again, Thomas grunts and puts his hands over Daud's bent legs so that he can give him what he wants, pushing from a different angle.  
   
   
It is so much better.  
   
   
“That's it,” as the attentive Master Daud has always been, he encourages Thomas, praising him just like he would do during their training; his young whaler is giving him pleasure, fucking him on his own bed and it could not be more perfect.  
   
   
 _Let the other hear every sound and moan, make them wish they could be the one between their Master's legs._  
   
   
Back in the corner of Daud's mind, there is an insane thought about some black-eyed bastard entity who is probably watching him right in this moment; he cannot help himself to wonder if he would find that scene interesting enough and smirks as he imagines the face the so-called-divinity would make.  
   
   
 _Would he be geolous?_  
   
   
He opens his eyes as Thomas hits a precise spot inside him – _good boy, good student_ – making him arch his back.  
   
   
 _Yes, he would be._  
   
   
There is a hand around Daud's neck and it is squeezing hard; Daud opens his eyes wide, staring at the young man above him who is in control nd is enjoying his Master's submission.  
   
When the young whaler smirks, Daud sees red: he needs to breathe but he cannot because Thomas does not let him.  
   
   
 _You, bastard._  
   
   
Daud pulls the bonds and they dig into his skin, hurting him so sweetly; adrenaline flows through his body but it is frustrating, as he cannot strike.  
   
“Come on, Sir,” Thomas grunts over him, “give it to me.”  
   
His disciple's voice is like liquid lust to Daud's ears – _yes, by the void, yes_ – and that is when Daud comes with a grunt untouched, all over his stomach; Thomas does not stop moving though, as he keeps on using him to reach his own pleasure, his rightful reward for his efforts.  
   
Daud arches his back, grits his teeth: he is feeling sore and everything has got too overwhelming. After being bent for too long in the same position, his muscles are aching and nearly shaking; he does not dare to speak anyway, as he is still lost into the orgasm he has just had.  
   
Thomas makes one last hard push and then pulls back: under his hooded eyes Daud sees him crumble, reaching the point of no return. He takes himself into one hand and he is soon coming on his Master's stomach: Daud's name is on his lips as he tilts his head back.  
   
   
 _Good boy._  
   
   
What a view they should make: Daud bound to his own bed, completely spent, his stomach stained with Thomas’ come and his own – not mentioning the oil covering his thighs.  
   
He is a mess but he cannot care less right now as he feels his rage, his guilt, sedated: he is in peace with the fucking Empire.  
   
“S-Sir?” Thomas asks, still taking his breath; he wipes off his hand on the sheets under himself.  
   
“Yes?” Daud's voice is deeper than usual; he can probably fall asleep at any moment.  
   
“Do I have to untie you, Sir?”  
   
“Absolutely yes.”  
   
Thomas obliges and Daud’s arms are free to move; then, his disciple cleans both of them with a wet cloth.  
   
Even this time, the young whaler has not disappointed him.  
   
“Stay,” Daud says aloud, giving voice to his thoughts.  
   
Thomas seems surprised, he is frozen where he is sitting on the bed: clearly, he was not expecting that.  
  
   
Then he answers, “if you want this, Sir, I will.”  
   
   
 


End file.
